


cherry blossoms in the spring

by mirroroflit (volunteer_of_hufflepuff)



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Malec, F/F, Set in 2020, break-up, thus the pandemic is a plot point
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27818104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/volunteer_of_hufflepuff/pseuds/mirroroflit
Summary: Izzy adores her girlfriend, Clary: but apparently, that's not enough, as she abruptly learns when Clary dumps her at their favourite cafe.Baffled and hurt, Izzy tries (albeit unsuccessfully) not to fumble with her already bleeding heart.Running into Clary at a party a few months later certainly doesn't help, not when Clary tries to reconcile: but broken hearts need more than pretty words to mend..Or: Isabelle Lightwood is dumped by long-time girlfriend Clary Fray, and complexity underlies their shattered relationship.
Relationships: Alec Lightwood & Isabelle Lightwood, Clary Fray/Isabelle Lightwood
Comments: 11
Kudos: 21





	1. smitherens

**Author's Note:**

> hi and welcome to my angsty clizzy fest!
> 
> the first chapter is based on the December 1st prompt from [Malec Discord Server](discord.gg/GY8jT4x), candy canes.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Clary’s wearing a cotton-candied striped scarf when they break up.

The snow is gently falling onto her shoulders, onto her cream-coloured coat Izzy had bought her last spring, and her wide green eyes are vacant, closed off.

“I’m sorry,” she says, clutching her coffee - her cinnamon cappuccino - in a floral keep-cup with her gloved hands. They are sitting outside their favourite cafe, next to dark panelled walls. “You’re great, Izzy, but.”

She blows on her coffee, looks into the cheery cafe where, moments ago, they had bought coffee together as they had done millions of times before and as Izzy had hoped to do for millions more.

“I need something different.”

Izzy pulls out her phone, texts Alec an all-too-casual message to pick her up at his earliest convenience.

“Right,” Izzy says. The blueberry muffin in her mouth tastes like sawdust and the hot chocolate in front of her now looks as appealing as motor oil. “Different.”

They have been dating for two years, and Clary decides to break up with her, out of the blue, on a random Tuesday afternoon a few weeks before Christmas.

Izzy lets the awkward silence fester, simmer.

Clary offers no explanation, just twists the red and white striped scarf in her right hand over and over again.

Izzy can't look away: yet she does.

“Bye, Clarissa,” she says, with no small degree of viciousness. Alec hasn’t texted back yet, but she can’t - it’s too much -

What can she say? She lashes out when she’s harbouring a broken heart.

.

A few months later: spring dawns in all its crisp glory and Izzy finally meets Alec’s boyfriend, Magnus.

He’s sweet and charming and fashionable: but above all, it is almost painfully obvious how much he cares for her brother.

Izzy thought she had someone like that, once. But all she was left with was an abandoned heart and endless unanswered questions.

It’s a small gathering at Magnus’ loft, and Izzy is currently nursing a martini next to Magnus’ perpetually grumpy cat, Church.

The doorbell buzzes once more: Izzy doesn’t bother to look, as all the people she knows are already here. Another one of Magnus’ friends, perhaps. Or a misguided delivery man.

Magnus, ever the gracious host, hands his drink over to Alec as he goes to greet whatever latecomer lurks at the other side.

Alec's besotten look as he carefully holds Magnus' drink is so sweet, Izzy looks away and tentatively pats Church on the head: he leans in a little, so that's good.

“Biscuit!” Magnus’ bright voice bursts through Izzy’s musings. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

When Izzy looks, curious if nothing else, she is not prepared for the sight she sees: Clary, in a gorgeous lavender dress with bare freckled shoulders, and a green candy cane clip tucked into her fiery red hair.

Izzy spits out what remains of her drink back into the glass, places it onto the table beside her with shaky hands, and sneaks away into the bathroom, where she proceeds to have a panic attack.

Shit.

.

Maybe, Izzy reasons as she hyperventilates in her brother’s boyfriend’s bathroom, she should have connected the dots and realised the family friend _Magnus_ Clary had so fondly spoken of was the same person who had so effortlessly captured Alec’s heart.

After all, Magnus wasn’t a common name. But it wasn’t exactly rare, either.

Her breathing is finally starting to slow when her phone buzzes: it’s a message from Alec, telling her that he’s ready to sneak her out of the loft whenever she’s ready.

But Alec had been so excited about introducing Izzy to Magnus for the first time, though, and Izzy really doesn’t want to ruin his night because she ran into her ex.

The ex Izzy had started thinking of marrying before she abruptly broke up with Izzy, but whatever. No big deal.

There’s a soft knock on the bathroom door, and an even softer voice calling out, “Izzy?”

Izzy looks up at the bathroom window, but - no. They’re too high up and it is tiny. Beautiful, but impractical for escaping equally beautiful exes.

“Go away, Clary,” she snaps, because she’s petty like that.

A sigh, a pause. “Look, I understand if you don’t want to talk to me, but I owe you an explanation.”

And Izzy just wants to kiss her, taste her mint chapstick and run her hands through her thick curls.

But that’s impossible, a mere fantasy.

“Not here,” Izzy replies, firmly. “I’m not ruining Alec’s night.”

The clack of heels, as Clary moves away from the door. “Alright,” Clary says, softly, ever so softly. “I understand. Just - unblock me on Instagram so we can arrange a meeting?”

A deep breath. “I’ll think about it.”

“Of course,” Clary says, and Izzy wonders why she sounds so sad. “I’ll be out on the balcony for the next half-an-hour or so, it’ll be easy for you to get away.”

“Thanks,” Izzy says, bitterness sliding into her tone. “I think.”

A broken whispered _I love you_ , and then silence.

Izzy brushes that off - probably the wind, or her forlorn pining imagination - and closes her eyes.

Closure. Mending her heart.

Shutting the door, throwing away the key for good.

Yeah. She can manage that.

Hopefully.


	2. explanations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clary explains the why, but it is not a magical solution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when you realise that these ladies need a lot more work for a happy ending *cracks knuckles*
> 
> strap in to find out why, exactly, clary so abruptly broke izzy's heart.
> 
> enjoy!

The spring sun shimmers, glistening on the leaves covering the ground of Central Park.

Izzy clutches her coffee close to her chest as she sits on a worn wooden bench, waiting for Clary.

The conversation their meeting is for is not a conversation she anticipates with much joy, but the closure it will bring her, hopefully, will be accompanied by a sense of relief.

A balm to her aching heart.

Or perhaps just more splinters to pierce it.

Alec is walking his dog somewhere else in Central Park: he had looked at her before they left and softly, gently, reminded her that she didn’t have to do this, that she owed Clary nothing.

Izzy knows this. But she knows if she doesn’t go, at their reluctantly agreed upon time and place, that the what-ifs will haunt her forever.

Izzy turns away from watching the path, fails to keep her right leg from shaking, and fixes her gaze upon a squirrel scurrying across the tall grass.

She wishes she could say that Clary just crept up on her, but in reality, Izzy hears her boots crunch on the gravel leading up to where she is sitting: when a familiar whiff of jasmine fills the air, Izzy’s heart crumples.

“Hi,” Clary says, weakly. She looks gorgeous: she always does - before it was a blessing and a curse, but now, it’s just a curse.

Izzy pulls down her sunglasses, rimmed with rose-gold, though she knows it’s too early in the year for them. “Good morning, Clarissa.”

Clary doesn’t sit down, stays still, standing upright on the gravel in front of the gnarled bench.

“Well,” Izzy says, after an awkward silence to rival the time the League of Nations tried to prevent Japan from expanding its empire (not very successfully, as WWII showed). “What’s your explanation?”

Clary - Clary looks fragile, delicate, her soft crimson curls falling across her shoulders, her emerald eyes impossibly gentle.

Izzy remembers how she just _left_ , and that works to harden her resolve.

“I was accepted into an art college based in London,” she says, quickly, too quickly, her eyes darting back and forth across Izzy’s face. “I didn’t want to enter into a long-distance relationship.”

“I didn’t want.” A shaky breath. “I didn’t want us to fall apart, slowly, incrementally, like my parents.” She looks away, tears clinging to her lashes. “Painfully.”

“That was not your decision to make,” Izzy says, firmly. “My parents are also divorced, in case you forgot.”

She hasn’t spoken to her father in months. It wasn’t just the divorce, or the sleeping with his secretary: it was the way his lip curled as Alec brought home his first boyfriend, and Izzy just knew his home would never be a safe household for his queer children.

“But my parents,” Clary says, “they just - drifted apart. Your father was a bastard. It wasn’t as clear-cut.”

“Was it?” Izzy says, her tone tough enough to cut glass. “Their relationship was on the brink of collapse before my dad was caught cheating.”

A breath, a pause, an aching silence yawning between them.

Izzy repeats: slowly, calmly. “That was not your decision to make. You did not have the right to decide what was best for me.”

Repeat, repeat, _repeat_ , and perhaps Izzy won’t crumble and fall into her arms.

_Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me._

“Could you ever forgive me?”

“I want to.” Izzy looks away: she cannot see Clary, see the woman she is still so desperately in love with, and not have her resolve crack. “But I don’t know if I can. Try not breaking someone’s heart so thoroughly next time you want to get back together.”

Izzy knows her words are harsh, but -

She feels as if she is a piece of discarded trash, a pane of glass that was thrown out for the mere suggestion it would shatter before it could even be tested.

“It was an immense breach of trust.”

“I understand,” says Clary, though she doesn’t look any less crestfallen. “My university has decided to move into online schooling, so I decided to come home. As things are.” Her breaths are unsteady. “I don’t think I’ll be leaving New York for a long time.”

“Right,” Izzy says, tapping her fingernails against her coffee cup, as a way to calm her frayed nerves. “Well, I ended the lease on our apartment as soon as I could. I went to Alec’s apartment the night.” She swallows. No matter how long it has been, or how used to it she has become, the words never become any easier to say. “You broke up with me, and when I went back all your stuff was gone. I moved in with Alec.”

Clary bites her lip. It’s awfully cute - Izzy glances down at her lap. _I'm not a fool._

“I’ve been staying with Magnus temporarily,” Clary says, softly, “and I’m planning on moving back in with my mum.”

“Good for you,” Izzy says, with a smile that couldn’t be more brittle if she tried. She gets up, brushes down her coat, though there is nothing to brush off. “Well. Thanks for the explanation, Clary. Enjoy art school.”

It is not until she is back at Alec’s apartment, locked away in her bedroom, that she finally let’s herself cry.

She -

She could have made things work, but Clary -

Clary hadn’t thought her strong enough, nor their relationship.

She wants to kiss her, wrap her up in her arms, but -

She can’t.

She no longer gets to enjoy her little piece of fantasy.


	3. new reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The scene is set in the bleak year of 2020, and Izzy, a month on from the tumultuous conversation, cannot bring herself to either forgive or forget Clary Fray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! I hope you enjoy this update! fair warning: hearts are still broken in this chapter & it is a lot of world-building a.k.a establishing the setting of late march 2020 in new york.
> 
> thanks to [ GideonGraystairs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GideonGraystairs) for the wonderful beta!
> 
> formalities asides, venture forth into the clizzy angst and alec & izzy sibling times.

The world spins, slows down.

A few weeks after Clary left Izzy with shitty, heart-wrenching explanations, the world narrows down to a point.

That point being, namely, Alec’s tiny two-bedroom apartment nestled in the thick of Manhattan.

Alec is sitting on the couch next to Izzy, drinking a steaming coffee from his green and blue keep-cup.

“I’ve arranged for our groceries to be delivered,” he says, a pained look falling onto his face. “And, Izzy, I know you were thinking of moving soon, but I don’t think now is the best time.”

Izzy wants to laugh - she yearns to cry.

Her broken heart was not enough of a calamity for the universe, it seemed. A global pandemic enveloping her city, turning New York, New York, into a ghost town - well. That happened.

“I understand,” Izzy says, two masks drying across from them, colourful but depressing nonetheless, on top of the dark coffee table.

January, February… they had all seen the storm rolling in the distance, but China had seemed so far away. What was one, two, three people slipping past American borders worth causing a fuss about?

Try thousands.

March has been a curse, but at least -

Izzy wants to scoff. Of course, give her a chance to reconcile with her lost love, and then make her feel as if Clary lives on another planet rather than a thirty-minute subway ride away.

It’s nearing April. The world is apocalyptic.

At least Alec is working from home, his nine-to-five job now confined to his admittedly small office.

Izzy is working - ironically, she cannot help but admit - on her PhD in microbiology from her bedroom, her part-time tutoring work now also virtual.

She has grown sick of staring at a screen all day, but at least -

Alec puts down his cup of coffee, gestures for Izzy to snuggle up to him.

At least she is locked up with her beloved brother.

(She tries, and fails, to not think of how Alec had begun to make tentative plans to move in with Magnus - but now. Well. They are all but smashed.)

“What do you want to watch?” Alec asks, softly.

“Nothing,” Izzy replies. “My eyes hurt - and.” She knows it is selfish, ignorant, but she doesn’t want to turn on the news. New York is going the way of Italy, she knows. She knows, but that doesn’t mean -

The only good thing about this pandemic is that she thinks less about Clary, about missed opportunities and unopened voicemails.

Her heart twangs. 

Izzy, well-versed in ignoring heart-break by now, ignores it, closing her eyes.

“I’ll put on our podcast, then,” Alec says. “I’ll play it through the stereo, so you won’t have to strain your eyes.”

It is a testament to how tired Izzy must look and sound that Alec refrains from teasing her.

Izzy does not afford Alec the same mercy. “Don’t turn it up so loud, grandpa,” she says, yawning, before falling silent.

This has become their routine: work, study, eat. Rest. Become more and more withdrawn from the world at large, although Izzy knows by now that Alec calls Magnus for an hour every night, from seven to eight like the well-balanced person he is.

Izzy, completely coincidentally, has scheduled tutoring sessions for that exact time slot practically every night, something which is not at all related to red fiery hair and bright, blinding smiles, belonging to a person who may or may not be residing at a certain person’s loft.

At least accidentally running into  _ her _ at a party is not a possibility, not anymore.

Izzy turns over, the podcast starting to play. A murder: the who, the why, the what.

Perhaps it speaks to Izzy’s morbid sense of self, but it comforts her, as does quietly sharing a space with Alec, listening to the same gruesome words.

Happiness - it is fragile, a worn concept that is tricky to grasp.

But Izzy has found it, if only briefly.

.

Izzy’s serendipity does not last.

Correction: the delivery service fucked up, and Izzy is braving a barren New York because she does not fancy red muddling white sheets.

Alec had immediately offered to go, after realising that waiting for another delivery was simply not an option. But Izzy had glared him down.

It was one of those rare nights when Izzy did not have a student from seven to eight, but that was Alec’s ‘I-am-maintaining-a-relationship-during-a-global-pandemic time’, and Izzy wasn’t going to ruin it because their delivery didn’t contain certain necessary supplies.

So, venturing out into the unknown. Lovely.

Izzy tries to think about what she can control. Her choice of mask, a gradient of blue, purple and pink, gifted to her by Magnus via post. Her leather brown boots, her perfectly wound bun.

She stops in front of Duane Reade, because CVS is another five-minute walk, looks at the glaring red  _ six people only  _ sign, then at the six blurry people-shaped figures inside the store, and stands still.

Seconds pass.

Someone leaves the store.

Because Izzy’s luck is notoriously shit, it’s Clary Fray, wide-eyed, face covered by her pale pink mask.

It’s only been a month since Izzy last saw her, but it has felt like an eternity, both agonising and a relief.

Izzy averts her eyes and walks into the store.

Not today, Satan.

.

When Izzy returns home, she disinfects herself thoroughly, peeling her mask off and throwing it into the appropriate basket. After whipping up a coffee, she finally pulls out her phone, where there are three unread messages awaiting her.

_ that was you, right? _

_ at duane reade? _

_ are you okay? _

Izzy sighs, swiping across her phone.

_ I’m fine. Thanks for asking. Stay safe. _

Clary misses - or, if Izzy is to be utterly honest, ignores - her passive-aggressive tone.

_ ofc! it was nice seeing you <3 _

Izzy sighs.

_ Goodnight, Clarissa. _

Maybe Clary will eventually figure out that some things just can’t be fixed: if Izzy manages to convince her heart to get with the programme as well, everything would be just wonderful.

~~ But the world doesn’t work like that. ~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note: whilst this fic will be set in 2020, none of the main characters will fall ill. whilst I have ample experience regarding long and strict lockdowns, I do not live in the U.S & thus whilst the lockdown will be the backdrop to the story, it will be indirect rather than direct experience for izzy, clary, alec and magnus.
> 
> in all seriousness, I do hope everyone stays safe (wear masks where appropriate) and if you can, get vaccinated!
> 
> that is all.
> 
> until next time with some more clizzy angst and perhaps a move in the right direction,
> 
> volunteer_of_hufflepuff (mirroroflit)

**Author's Note:**

> all comments, kudos, bookmarks, etc, are seen and appreciated xx
> 
> a second chapter shall hopefully grace you soon - stay safe!
> 
> [tumblr ](https://mirrorofliterature.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/mirroroflit)


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